


journeys end in lovers meeting

by notahotlibrarian



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: F/M, Gen, Road Trips, Self-Discovery, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-14 22:03:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9205133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notahotlibrarian/pseuds/notahotlibrarian
Summary: It's been a long road from Bethel to wherever Kate Fuller is now, but her journey is not yet over.After Matanzas, Kate decides to take a road trip to figure some things out.  But no matter what turns she makes, all roads lead back to the Geckos.  But is it destiny or is it her choice?





	1. Matanzas

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my first FDTD fic, hope you like!

Kate walks out of Matanzas under the setting sun and only looks back once.  She knows she shouldn’t; she looks anyways, and Seth looks back once too.  Their eyes meet, and Kate smiles at him, full of all the love she thought she’d lost the first time she died, and he smiles back, softer than Kate has ever seen him.  His face holds salvation and temptation, balanced like a yin-yang symbol.  He’s good and bad and nothing Kate ever wanted but everything she needs.  One look at Seth Gecko’s face and she wants to sidle up to his car and ask him if he needs company again.

But Kate is no longer the Kate Fuller who started this journey at the Titty Twister a year ago.  Like she told Seth, that girl died a long time ago, and she’s not sure what woman took her place.

But she looks forward to finding out.

 

* * *

 

Somehow - she’s not really sure how - Kate makes it to a shitty, rundown hotel room somewhere near Matanzas.  She stumbles into the room, locks the door and slides the deadbolt more out of muscle memory than conscious effort.  In a fugue, she walks to the shower, stripping out of Amaru’s leather getup with each tired step.

Exhausted, she sits in the bottom of the tub as the shower runs over her.  Her mind is silent and empty for the the first time in months, but Kate is too tired to find any joy even in that.

Her vision goes fuzzy, and Kate starts to panic that Amaru has taken over her again. She starts to shake uncontrollably under the spray of the water, hands scrabbling at the tile as she tries to retain control of her body.  She chokes for breath as the anxiety takes over until suddenly, a cool wave of  _ peace  _ washes over her.

_ Be cool, _ she hears a voice say in her head, and the pulse point in her elbow starts to throb.  Kate presses a shaky finger against it, and she’s struck again by that feeling of peace, of surety that things will work out in the end, that they will be together, rich and fat in El Rey.

Kate lets out a quiet sigh, and leans forward to turn the water off. Somehow, she knows that it is Seth’s heart she is feeling, and that calms her more than anything else could. 

 

 

Kate sleeps for forty-two straight hours after falling into the hotel bed.  When she wakes, Kisa is sitting on the end of her bed, nonchalantly inspecting her nails.  Kate gasps and scrambles back, slamming her head on the headboard.

Kisa looks up at the thump Kate makes.  “Finally,” she says, tone slightly annoyed.

“What?” Kate asks, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

Kisa pulls one leg up on the bed and rests her cheek on her knee.  “I wanted to make sure you were okay,” she says quietly, her voice softer and gentler than Kate has ever heard from the Snake Queen.

Kate just shrugs and pulls the sheet up under her armpits.  “I think...I think it’s been a very long time since I was okay.  Long before Amaru got a hold of me,” she answers after a moment.  “Before any of this happened, really.”

As soon as Kate says that, she knows it is true.  Amaru had stripped her bare, forcing Kate to relive all the painful and angry and miserable and hateful moments in her life.  All the times Kate had pushed against Bethel’s small-town conservative constraints.  Every petty thing she did towards Scott when he first came to live with them.  Every time she explored her blossoming sexuality - be it French kissing Kyle or masturbating in the tub - and felt ashamed by her own body.  Amaru showed Kate just how full of hate she really was, and erased any small amount of love she had left.

Something soft hits Kate in the face, knocking her out of her reverie.  It falls into her lap, and Kate sees that it is a faded gray t-shirt.  Jeans, panties, socks and a bra join the shirt in her lap.  “Come, get dressed.  You need to eat,” Kisa says, nudging Kate’s legs underneath the sheets.

Kate slips the panties on under the sheets before shaking her head at her own modesty.  With a boldness she doesn’t fully feel, Kate stands up from the bed, revealing her pale, battered body to the other woman.  She carefully pulls the jeans on, mindful of the way one knee is slightly swollen and the bruise forming on her hip.  There is a wicked scrape along her ribcage, so Kate leaves the bra on the bed and instead slips into the shirt, which hangs loosely on her small frame.

“What do you want me to do with this?” Kisa asks, holding Amaru’s jacket between two fingers.  Her nose wrinkles with disgust as she looks down at the dust-covered and bloodied leather.

“Burn it.  Burn it all,” Kate says as she finger combs her snarled hair.

“Even the shoes?” Kisa asks oddly.  Kate looks up to see a note of longing written across the other woman’s face.

“Seriously?” Kate asks, a hint of laughter in her voice as she sits back on the bed to pull the socks on.

“What?” Kisa snaps defensively as she gathers up the rest of Kate’s old clothes.  She takes them into the bathroom, and after a moment Kate hears the rasp of a match, followed by a quiet  _ whoosh _ as the leather catches aflame.

Kate slips the blood-red boots on and takes a few experimental steps in them.  They’re surprisingly comfy - not just in fit, but in attitude as well.  Growing up, Kate was never allowed to wear heels, not even to church, and wearing the heeled boots feels like a small rebellion that the old Kate would have never dared to make.  

Kisa comes back out of the bathroom and gives Kate an approving look.  “She may have been a bitch, but she had good taste in shoes,” she muses.

“Some might say the same about you,” Kate says teasingly.  She lightly hip-checks the other woman, the way she used to with Scott anytime they traded jokes behind their parents’ backs.

Kisa glares at Kate, but there is no heat behind it.  “Just...put this jacket on so we can go eat, okay? Watching you sleep made me hungry,” she grumbles.  Kate complies, sliding her arms into the motorcycle jacket, and the two women stride out into the late September twilight.

 

 

They end up at a Denny’s of all places.  Kate picks at her scrambled eggs and toast while Kisa wolfs down a stack of waffles bigger than Kate’s face.  “I like these  _ Americano  _ breakfast foods,” Kisa says between bites.

The corner of Kate’s mouth tips up.  “I used to make waffles for us for dinner.  We had a whole tradition around it,” she reminisces.  “Strict dress code of pajamas, every unhealthy topping imaginable...” Kate trails off sadly.

“I am sorry that you lost your family,” Kisa says quietly.  

“My daddy once told me that family isn’t always flesh and blood,” Kate says philosophically, her voice gaining back its Texan drawl.  “He said that family is the people who choose to stand by you, day after day, year after year, and who love you no matter what you do.”  

They sit together in silence, each mulling over what Kate had said.  “You...you could join my family,” Kisa offers after a moment.

“What, worship  _ La Diosa _ ?” Kate asks bitterly, a spike of something black and ugly going through her heart.  She presses her knuckles against her sternum, reminding herself that Amaru’s amulet no longer burned against her skin.  “Sorry,” she murmurs after a moment.

“A goddess would not have led her family to death,” Kisa says, mournful and angry all at once.

“I think that a true god doesn’t force his or her believers to follow them.  They let them make the choice to do so.”

Kisa stares deep into Kate’s eyes.  “There is power in making your own choices,” she says, and a moment of understanding passes between the two women.  Both have been used as vessels for another’s greed, and both fought bitterly to regain their agency.  Both had to give up the girls they used to be - girls of light, and happiness, and love - to become the women that sit together under the harsh lights of the diner today, each eating their food with one eye looking towards the door and one hand on the gun at their waist.

The two women finish their breakfast in a companionable, if wary, silence.  Kate forces herself to eat at least one whole piece of toast and drink her juice while Kisa demolishes her stack of waffles, a side of bacon, two cups of coffee and a plate of fruit.  Once fed, the two slide out of the booth and stand.  Kate stretches as Kisa throws some cash on the table.

The wind suddenly shrieks around the building, rattling the door in an ominous warning.  Kisa and Kate look at each other, bodies tensing and hands moving towards weapons.  “Vamos,” Kisa says quietly.  Kate nods and, crowding into the the other woman’s space, follows her down to bathroom hallway and out a back door.

They hurry across the parking lot to Kisa’s car.  Kate slides into the passenger seat and nervously watches as Kisa quickly walks around the front of the car to the driver’s side.  Kate pulls the gun out of her waistband and holds it in her lap, grip tight but finger not yet on the trigger.

Kisa gets in and starts the car.  “Expecting trouble?” she asks Kate, nodding at the pistol.  Kate shrugs as the car rumbles to life.  Kisa shifts the car through the gears smoothly as she peels out of the parking lot, and whatever Kate would have said is lost to the squeal of the tires against the pavement.

Kate looks back over her shoulder to see a GTO pull into the parking lot, into the space they’ve just abandoned.  Two men exit the car, waving their hands in a way that suggests they’re bickering with each other.  Kate feels a tug somewhere just beneath her sternum and she finds herself nearly leaning over the seat in an effort to watch the men.

Kisa pushes Kate back into a sitting position.  “Seatbelt,” she tells the other woman.  Kate complies, buckling herself in as Kisa rockets through the gears.  “I don’t want to get pulled over just because you’re not following the law,” Kisa says dryly.

“Right, and the fact that you’re doing,” Kate leans over to look at the speedometer, “...nearly a hundred would have nothing to do with it,” Kate snarks.

Kisa looks over at Kate and grins, slow and sharp.  The old Kate would have shivered at that smile, all deadly curves and too sharp canines that are all the better to eat you with, my dear. 

_ Wolves and girls, _ the phrase winds through her mind.   _ Both have sharp teeth. _  There’s a memory attached, something fuzzy and unclear and involving Scott and his comics that Kate can’t quite remember.  But the phrase sticks in Kate’s mind as she matches Kisa’s smile with a baring of teeth that one might generously call a grin, and she likes the feeling it gives her.

Their wheels roll down the highway, and the brush and rocks fly in a blur past the window.  Kisa fiddles with the radio, tuning into a Spanish rock station, and Kate nods along to the music as she props her feet on the dashboard.

“So where are we going?” Kate asks after a while.

“Piedras Negras,” Kisa answers.

“Bad day at Black Rock,” Kate murmurs.

“I hated that movie,” Kisa comments.  

“Richie make you watch it?” Kate asks. Kisa hums in agreement.  “Seth made me watch it, too.  I fell asleep in the middle of it and he bitched for like, three days straight.”  The two fall into a conversation about Gecko boys and their questionable taste in movies as they drive into the setting sun.

Kisa is not the big bad wolf, not anymore, just like Kate is no longer a little girl in a red cape, innocently traveling down the road.  

Kate is still curious about where that road leads, though.  What kind of woman will she be by the end of it?

 

* * *

 

When Seth and Richie return to Jacknife Jed’s from Matanzas, Seth immediately heads to one of the basement storage rooms.  Richie follows him, chattering the whole way about Xolo and Xibalbans and some bank he wants them to rob.  Seth lets Richie’s words surround him, like white noise, as he digs through boxes to find Eddie’s tapes, all the good ones from his store.

“What are you looking for?” Richie finally pauses his diatribe long enough to notice what Seth is doing.

“What does it fucking look like I’m doing?” Seth spits out, elbows deep in a box of old VHS tapes.  “I’m looking for a movie.  Bad Day at Black Rock. Spencer Tracy…”

“...Robert Ryan, yeah yeah.” Richie finishes.  In that annoying way that only siblings can achieve, Richie reaches into the box Seth was rummaging through and pulls out the exact VHS.  

“Why do you want to watch this?” Richie asks as he tucks the tape under his arm and heads out of the storage room.

“I don’t know, just...popped into my head,” Seth answers.


	2. Piedras Negras (I)

Kisa takes them to her old fight club, where  _ La Diosa _ ’s followers welcome them.  The last few weeks finally catch up with Kate’s poor mortal body, and she collapses almost as soon as she crosses the threshold.  

One of the followers was a nurse, before she was turned, and she takes charge of the situation.  She has the others set Kate up in one of the spare bedrooms, and pulls an IV line and drip bag out of their stock of medical supplies.  Kisa keeps a watchful eye over the proceedings, but Conchita, the nurse, gets Kate hooked up to the IV and some monitors in no time flat.

Kisa studies Kate as she lies in the bed, deathly still.  If it weren’t for the shallow rise and fall of Kate’s chest, Kisa would think that the other woman was either dead or a culebra.

The thought makes Kisa pause.  There is something...off about Kate, even now with Amaru gone.  Kisa can sense that the girl is not quite human, not any longer, but what she is...Kisa can’t quite puzzle it out.  As Kate sleeps, Kisa sits next to her, studying Kate’s body as if the scars and bruises on it will fade and reveal the answer.

 

* * *

 

Kate dreams.

_ She is sitting at a table in a kitchen she does not recognize.  The table is a bright, cheerful yellow, with chrome edges that Kate idly runs her finger down.  It smells like garlic and peppers, and Kate can hear the sizzle of something being cooked.   _

_ She turns her head, and sees a woman at the stovetop.  The woman takes a skillet off of the burner and turns around to face Kate.  " _ _ There you are,” she says, smiling indulgently at Kate.  “It took you long enough to get here.” _

_ Kate looks at the woman.  She is beautiful, but not in the way Kisa is, terrifying and intoxicating.  This woman is beautiful the way your home is, when you pull into the driveway after a long trip away.  Her smile says that she’ has been waiting for you, and would continue to wait patiently and uncomplainingly until you found her. _

_ “Where...where am I?” Kate asks. _

_ The woman serves some of whatever is in the skillet onto the plate in front of Kate.  “You are in my home,” she answers. _

_ “And where is that?” Kate asks warily. _

_ The woman chuckles.  “Wherever I need it to be. Now eat your huevos rancheros.” She orders. _

_ Kate obediently tucks into the food as the woman sits down to eat her own serving.  For a dream, it is incredibly detailed.  Kate can taste the rich flavor of huevos rancheros, can hear the quiet drone of a radio in the background.  She can feel the coolness of the Formica against her arm and the gentle breeze from the fan overhead. _

_ “Who are you?” Kate asks the woman between bites of food. _

_ “You may call me Aracely,” she says graciously.  “But the real question, Catrina, is what are you now?” _

_ Kate’s fork falls with a clatter against the tabletop.  Aracely’s question stunned her, as well as her use of Rafa’s nickname. _

_ “Not a culebra, not the queen of hell, but no longer just a girl, I think,” Aracely muses, ignoring Kate’s dumbstruck look.  “I think that you are one of us, now,” she says, giving Kate a speculative look. _

_ Kate shakes herself.  “And what is that?” she asks, pulling herself back together. _

_ Aracely shrugs.  “We are called many things.  Psychics, curanderos, empaths, mediums…but personally, I prefer bruja.” _

_ “I-I’m a witch?” Kate asks. _

_ Aracely wrinkles her nose.  “That word is so ugly.  You are whatever you want to be called.  Names have power - don’t ever forget that.” _

_ With that, Aracely and her home disappear, and Kate is left to her own dream. _

 

* * *

 

After Kate sleeps for forty-eight hours, Kisa starts to get worried. She thinks about calling the Gecko brothers, or even the younger Fuller, but Kisa is unsure if Kate would want any of them there.

(Kisa has not willingly thought about someone else’s needs or wants in a very long time.  But something about Kate Fuller just screams at her every instinct, and Kisa has not survived this long without listening to her instincts.)

Kate shifts in her sleep, turning onto her side and curling into a ball.  She stretches one arm out across the mattress, as if reaching for something.  She murmurs something, face twisting unhappily.

Kisa leans over and runs a gentle hand over Kate’s forehead.  “What is it,  _ niña _ ?” she says soothingly.

“Seth,” Kate breathes out, hand grasping at the empty sheets.

Kisa swears quietly under her breath.  She did not want to call in the Geckos, but you cannot have one brother without the other.

There is a quiet knock at the door.  Kisa looks up to see Joaquin, one of the survivors from Matanzas, in the doorway.  “ _ Diosa _ ,” he says.  “We have visitors.”

“Who is it?” Kisa asks warily, hand resting on the knives tucked into the small of her back.

“Los  _ hermanos  _ Gecko. And the other culebra - the one with two blades.”

“Scott Fuller,” Kisa supplies.  “Bring them here, and make sure they know that they must be quiet.”  Joaquin nods and leaves the room.  

She hears the Geckos before she sees them.  They’re bickering, like always - from the sounds of it, Seth wouldn’t stop so Richie could get some horchata on their way here.  Kisa rolls her eyes are their childishness as Scott speaks.  “Why don’t both of you shut the fuck up?” Scott growls.  “This isn’t about you.”

“Well said, Scott,” Kisa says as the three men follow Joaquin into Kate’s room.  All three look sharply up at her - Richard looks at her with a hint of longing, and Scott with a trace of anger.

But Seth’s eyes are only on Kate’s small form in the bed behind Kisa.  “Is she okay?” he asks quietly, rushing over to stand at Kate’s bedside.

Kisa shrugs.  “She has slept for the past two days.  My healers assure me that physically, she is recovering,” she says, gesturing to where Conchita, the nurse is sitting on the other side of Kate’s bed. 

“ _ Pero su mente _ ,” Conchita chimes in, tapping a finger against her temple.  “It is her mind that needs the rest,” she says in heavily accented English.

Seth nods and turns to Joaquin.  “You. We’re going to need some more chairs in here,” he orders.  Joaquin looks nervously at Kisa, who turns to look at Seth.  “If that’s okay with you, your highness?” he adds on sarcastically.

Kisa arches an eyebrow at him, then gives Joaquin a small nod. He leaves the room to do as told.  

“Shut up.” Kate’s voice is rusty from disuse, but her whispered grumble cuts through the group.  Collectively, they all rush to her bedside, but Conchita pushes them back as she moves around the check over Kate.

Kate presses a weak hand against her forehead.  “Stop thinking so loudly,” she groans. “You are all so...loud.”

Everyone in the room turns to look at each other.  Since Kate has woken, none of them have said anything.

Kisa takes charge of the situation.  “Seth, Richard, Scott, come with me.  We have things to discuss. Conchita, once you are done checking Kate over, go get some rest.”  The men all protest, but Kisa stares them down.  “Kate wants quiet, so we will give it to her.”

  
  
  


Kate is alone in her room, but it still feels suffocating. Her brain feels like a radio with the scan button jammed down, flicking from station to station slow enough to catch snippets of conversation but fast enough that she cannot make sense of what she’s hearing.  The sounds start to fill her brain until Kate can no longer make out her own thoughts - only the thoughts of others.

It’s too much like Amaru, and Kate starts to panic. On shaky legs, Kate stumbles over to the closet in her room.  After shutting the door behind her, she kneels in the floor and shoves boxes and blankets out of the way, clearing out the back corner of the closet.  In the space she’s cleared out, Kate curls up against the wall, tugging one of the spare blankets over her body.

She cries, great big wracking sobs the shake her entire body.  She cries until all she tastes is salt in her mouth and her body has no tears left in it.

Darkness surrounds her, and finally, so does peace.  She wipes her face with the corner of the blanket and then tilts her head back to rest against the wall.  She takes long, deep breaths, in for five, hold for two, out for seven, just like the school therapist had taught her after Kate had panic attacks after starting high school.  The static in her brain finally quiets down, and Kate can physically feel her heartbeat finally slowing down to a normal pace. 

“I’m okay,” she murmurs to herself.  “I am here, and I am alive.  I am Katherine Grace Fuller.”  Kate repeats this to herself, over and over, until her brain is perfectly silent and empty.  There is no Amaru in there, trying to assert control - just Kate and her thoughts and memories and feelings.

Just as Kate nearly feels calm enough to attempt to leave her hiding spot, the closet door is flung open.  Kate shrinks back into the corner, fingers gripping the blanket so tightly that her nails nearly rip the fabric.

“Jesus, Kate, what the hell are you doing in there?” Seth swears loudly.  His voice sets off the other voices and a cacophony of sounds invade Kate’s quiet space and set the static in her brain to buzzing again.  She can hear Scott and Richie sniping at each other and Kisa yelling at them to act like goddamn adults and Conchita trying to tell all of them to get out of her patient’s room.  It’s too much for Kate and she screams.

That, of course, only makes things worse.  Everyone tries to cram into her closet, and Seth stumbles forward to grab her shoulder.  His hand feels like the heat of Xibalba, burning through her skin, and Kate only screams louder.

  
  
  


 

_ Fuck! _ Seth mentally swears as Kate continues to scream.  The sound is unnerving, and it makes the hairs on the back of Seth’s neck stand straight up.  But Seth pushes past his unease, for however uncomfortable he may be, it is obvious that Kate feels even worse, and Seth cannot have that.

“Shh, princess, shh,” he says quietly, taking his hand off of her shoulder and kneeling in front of her.  “You’re okay.  You’re here with us and you’re safe,” he says, keeping his voice as quiet and gentle as he knows how.  He murmurs the same soft nonsense he used to say whenever Kate woke up with nightmares while they were in Mexico together.

Kate continues to scream, though - a long, sustained note that no longer seems human.  In the dim light filtering in from the bedroom behind him, Seth can see that Kate’s eyes have rolled back in her head.

He looks back over his shoulder at the others, who hover nervously around them.  “What the fuck do I do?” he mouths to them.  Everyone, even Conchita - a trained nurse who should know what the fuck is going on - shrug.  Moments later, Scott makes a face like he thought of something and rushes off.

Seth turns back to Kate.  She’s still screaming, and goosebumps have broken out over Seth’s skin.  “Hey, baby girl, hey,” he says quietly, still trying to call her down.  

God, but this shit kills him.  He’d have gladly taken the bullets Carlos pumped into Kate, gladly hosted that hell bitch Amaru, gladly slit his own fucking wrists if it meant never seeing Kate Fuller suffer like this. 

Scott suddenly reappears.  He pushes past Seth to wrap a pair of oversized headphones over Kate’s ears.  She stops screaming, the sound cutting off suddenly and leaving a ringing silence in its wake.  Seth watches as Scott carefully grips the corners of the blanket and pulls it back up over his sister, making sure to never actually touch Kate.

Scott slowly backs away from Kate, bumping into Seth and forcing him to back out of the closet as well.  Scott gently pushes the door closed, leaving Kate alone in the darkness in the closet.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Seth spits out at the younger Fuller.

Scott shushes him.  “Be quiet and leave her alone.  She’ll come out when she’s ready,” he whisper-yells, herding everyone out of the closet and then out of Kate’s room.

  
  
  


 

In the darkness of the closet, Kate closes her eyes.  

In her dreams, Aracely greets her again.   _ Do not fear, Catrina,  _ Aracely tells her.   _ Amaru will never touch you again,  _ she says, and there is a thread of steel in her voice the brooks no argument.


End file.
